Remember
by FluffleNeCharka
Summary: Shuichon has lost her mind after losing Lopmon, withdrawn from the world. Can  Jenrya snap her out of it, or is she too far gone? [Oneshot]


Author's Notes: Wow, this came out much better than I thought it would. It's 3:35 in the morning when I'm finishing this; it was 2 am when I started. Early morning writing always comes out weird. But I really wanted to portray what could happen to a delicate, immature mind like Suzie's when her only friend leaves. I wanted to kind of show how she could snap, and how Jenrya would deal with it.

Please review, even if it's a flame. I worked hard on this, and I'm not sure how it came out.

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I sit here, with all the lights shut off except for the TV, which is currently playing a digimon movie I've seen a hundred times.

I have seen it in German. I have memorized it in English, Japanese, and Chinese. I have seen it once in Korean, and I hunted down versions of it in Spanish, Hebrew, Russian, and I have the ending of it in French. I could give you, from memory, all the dialogue, word for word, almost all of the movie. The parts I couldn't give you would only be unrecitable because I would start to cry. I don't ever cry watching it, even in languages I understand, even in high definition – and I've seen it in high and low definition and everything in between. I know the story so well. I know the characters every move. I recognize instantly every object in the background, I've seen this so many times.

I wasn't joking when I said I'd seen it a hundred times.

The sun went down a while ago, I realized with a blink. I guess I've been doing it again – rewatching the same scene again and again until time has flown away. I do that a lot. Jenrya and Jaarin and Rinchei and Papa and Mommy all worry about how I lose track of time when I watch this movie. They say it's not healthy, that I should go to my room and play with my dolls. Even though I don't remember much of what people say, I remember that. They say it often enough that those words are etched into my memory.

But there's no point. I played with those dolls before I knew what it was like. Oh, for a time they were fantastic. I remember being entranced by my own imagination, making up story after story about all of my dolls. The ideas and possibilities seemed endless. Only I knew the stories behind the dolls. Only I knew their names and only I, Suzie, was their friend. I remember so clearly how it was.

Things changed when I met _her_. Lopmon. Until then I had never had a real friend. Until then I was living in a false reality, a dream world I created on my own terms. I was only seven, Jenrya reminds me. I wasn't very mature. I understand that now. But a friend is a friend no matter what age. Lopmon did not see me as irritating, even though I was. Lopmon didn't see me as immature, even though I was. Lopmon did not focus on my flaws. She saw the goodness even I cannot see anymore. I remember the wonder, the amazement. She was my friend. My first real inkling of what love and kindness and friendship were.

And she left me.

It wasn't her choice, I used to explain for days afterwards. Even now and probably until the end of time, I'll defend Lopmon. She didn't know she was going to leave. I remember the explanations of my father, explaining it all. I remember every word, even now. I understand that she had to, that there was no other choice. I can close my eyes at anytime and see the tears in her big, pitch black eyes as she tried to stay strong for me. I can see it so clearly that Lopmon may as well have said goodbye yesterday, although it's been three years. The memory is me; my one true friend, saying goodbye so quietly.

Every day, I think about it. I wish I hadn't cried. I remember crying, even when I knew it was stupid and useless. I was only seven. So immature and babyish, so carefree and innocent, that I couldn't hold back. My heart was breaking, splitting into a million pieces inside of me. I could not think for pain. Even Jenrya knows I'm not one to go into denial. I knew would never see her again. I knew that my only hope for sanity had just flown out the window. And I knew dolls would never compare to Lopmon. Nothing would ever compare to her.

I remember I tried to fake that I was okay.

I couldn't. I took one look at my dolls after getting home, and the perception had changed. They weren't as I had remembered. They weren't real. They weren't friends. These things could never smile at me like Lopmon, or sigh like she did. They couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't tell me I was a good person. They were no Lopmon. I think I stepped on one or two of them that day just walking to my bed. I didn't care. They meant nothing now. They were plastic.

It was the start of my careless life. I didn't care if I ate. I didn't care if my grades were slipping. I did not care for the other kid's scorn; when I heard it, that was. I did not notice if I cut myself, scraped my knee, brushed my teeth or if my hair was a giant magenta tangle. I could not let Lopmon go. Her memory was all I had, but that was okay. I didn't care as long as I had that. I could not have cared less when Takato came over to talk to Jenrya about the portal to the Digital World he'd seen. It was gone. Before I could even look at it, it was long gone along with all my hope of finding Lopmon. Gone, like she was. The word 'gone' echoes in my head sometimes, and it's all I hear. Sometimes I just think the word. Sometimes I'll hear Lopmon, Terriermon, or Jenrya say it in my head. Occasionally my own voice will surprise me and I'm not sure if I say it or think it, but the word is there. Some days it's all I think, in a steady, musical rhythm, 'gone. Gone, gone, gone gone gone'.

Two weeks after Lopmon left, I got a hold of some of the Digimon movies.

Including the one that had a Lopmon in it. The title I won't list here, because I've seen it in so many languages, it's all muddled in my head. (Some things like that, or the words for some things, or words at all, I don't remember sometimes.) But it was Lopmon. Not my Lopmon, but a Lopmon nonetheless. The image of her soothed me, eased my pain. I could stop crying for a while when I watched it. I stopped my incoherent mumbling. My babbling tears. It was this that prompted my parents to buy me a TV set. They were tired of my crying and throwing things at the wall, screeching in anguish. I remember the looks they shared. I'm immature, not blind. They were tired of my babyishness.

They were tired of me.

And now they'd give anything to have me back.

I know I'm not living in the real world anymore. I don't care to, either. I don't want to face the hard, cold, calculated facts my father has tried to tell me endless times. I remember the harsh, monstrous world that lies beyond. I have done what I did as a little girl three years ago, this time for safety rather than play. I have used my imagination to create another new world, but this one isn't filled with princesses and knights and balls. This one is filled with Lopmon, her evolutions, all that is her species. This one is sacred and mine. I am lost, adrift my own memories of my long lost friend. I am in the dark, not willing to look for a light unless that light comes from the TV screen. I don't talk much now. They don't understand what I say. They – my family and so-called friends – have always thought of me as shallow. Lopmon knew I wasn't. Lopmon knew me, the real Shuichon Suzie Lee Wong. I remember…

Time blurs in my world.

Years have past, three and five monthes. Or is it four, three, six, seven monthes? I haven't bothered to keep track. I don't keep track of anything now. I can't find anything at school even when I do look. I don't know day from night. I don't remember when to eat. I don't brush my hair. I don't keep track of what people say. All that I keep track of is the movie. The image, however low quality, of my Lopmon. No, not mine. But any Lopmon, even on a trading card, helps keep me safe here in my mind. That way I'll never forget how she looked. Here, Lopmon never really left. Sometimes I hear her voice; remnants of what she said to me. Then I'll begin to cry again, until I can find a notebook to doodle her image into or another copy of my movie.

One time I got lost walking home.

I remember I was so unfocused. My mind had just shut down. Of course, now, Rinchei and Jaarin walk me to and from school, but back then… Well, I don't know. It was a while ago. I ended up in the park where I last saw Lopmon, and cried until I passed out. I awoke with Takato standing over me. I said nothing in response to his questions, just mumbling, "Remember what Lopmon said before she left?" There was no response. Maybe he just didn't know what to say. Maybe Takato was pitying me. Maybe he didn't care anymore. Sometimes I get that feeling, when I can tear myself away from the TV or my world. Sometimes I think everyone is very, very tired of taking care of me and they hate how I am. In any case, I remember Takato carrying me home. He looked sad, like when-he-talked-about-Juri-and-the-D-Reaper-sad.

Funny, isn't it? There was a time when they called me Suzie. They told me to be quiet. To quit bouncing around and to act more grown up. Now, they don't bother with the nicknames. Even my techers and classmates call me Shuichon. They beg me to talk. To exercise; go outside and play like the little girl I once was. But those are things Suzie would do. Suzie liked play and laughter; she didn't know there was anything else. Shuichon, me, knows better. I know that childhood like that is fleeting and that I am not ever going to be able to roam carelessly like Suzie did. Roaming requires energy, anyway. I'd rather sit here and watch my TV.

Sometimes I look back on my old, happy life before Lopmon and think it was great. Sometimes I hate it. But no matter what, my short time spent with Lopmon was the greatest and worst of it all. It's moments like that, that are definitely both, that are worth hanging onto for all eternity. Moments like those are all I remember, all I think of. It's moments like these I can lose myself in. I like to lose myself, remembering. I enjoy the sensation of not knowing where I am, focused on something I know so well. I wake up in the morning, not knowing who I am, where I am, what day it is, if it is day. I don't like that, but I don't dislike it, either. It's a part of life.

The movie has ended; the credits have stopped.

I wait, patiently, for it to run out and rewind. I've done this a million times before. I will do it again. I remember doing it, listening to the static of the end of the movie, the _whurr_ of the rewind feature going off. My body is stiff from sitting up for an hour with no back support, staring at the TV. My eyes ache. But I'll watch it again, because I need to see the other Digidestined. The people who got to keep their digimon with them. It soothes me, remembering that there are happy people who know a Lopmon, somewhere. So I sit, in the dark, thinking that maybe I'm not living right.

Half the time, when I think, I end up thinking about past events like they're now and now like past events. Things are messed up in my mind. I remember too much. I can't tell what's real unless I try. I don't try, ever. I don't want to feel any more pain. I endured too much of it when Lopmon left, I don't want it now. I can't take it. I'll erase all of my memory if I have to, so long as I have my memories of her. Do you understand? No, you probably don't. No one does but me.

"Shuichon?" it's Jenrya. Shaking. At my door. It's open just enough to reveal one silver eye, one strand of blue-black hair, one half a tan face. I can't look directly at him for long. It'll make me remember Terriermon, and by effect, Lopmon. "Can I come in?"

I don't respond. I know he will anyway. He's done it before, he'll do it again. Once, back before it had been a month of this insanity, I threw a doll at his head. It cracked and missed him by and inch, and he came in anyway. (I will always remember his expression, though.) Jenrya is the only member of my family who hasn't given up on me just yet. He may never give up. I don't think he'll leave my side, even when I'm forty and I'll have to find new copies of the movie to keep up with the technology. I think that Jenrya blames himself for how I am. He told me this would happen, that I would get hurt somehow. But he didn't do all he could to stop me. He didn't console me after Lopmon went away.

A glance out the window reveals to me that it's winter. I honestly didn't know that. So, I apologize. The season confirms that it is at least three years and six monthes now. Maybe more. I'll always remember the day Lopmon left, but do any other days matter? Christmas, Easter, Halloween, birthdays… They blurred and passed, blurred and passed. I could always ease any guilt of disappointing my family by turning on the TV.

Jenrya walks over to me, looking sad. He always will when it comes to me. He sits on the end of the bed, gingerly, as if I might break if he moves too fast. Tenderly he takes my stone-cold hand in his. My hand is still clenched in a fist from habitual gripping of my bedsheets. It's a good movie habit, bad life habit. Jenrya won't criticize me for it, though. Jenrya never could really do anything to hurt me. Not when his memories have misguided him into the idea that he's the reason I lie here, killing my vision and myself slowly, staring at a blank television screen. He'll never hurt me. I don't have to remember anything to know that – he won't hurt anyone, anymore. Jenrya doesn't do things like that, even if it's for someone's own good. Ruki, yes. Takato, maybe. Jenrya, never.

To my surprise, he asks, "Shuichon, do you know what day it is?"

It's not a school day, I think. Maybe it's… December? January? I don't know. My silence tells him this without words being spoken. I never know what day it is or what time it is. Sometimes I'm not sure what year it is. It's a dumb question, but clearly he thinks I should know. Let's see, it's not Christmas because the lights my sister puts up on the ceiling aren't there. It can't be New Years if I don't see Christmas lights, because Jaarin leaves the lights there until February. It can't be February because the box of unopened Valentines isn't sitting on the dresser where I always put it. I just don't know. I can't remember.

"Shuichon," Jenrya whispers, his voice cracking weakly, "It's your birthday. You're eleven years old now. Isn't that great?"

I continue to stare into space. So it's December 14… I want to say yes, it's great, but does it matter? It's just a day, like any other, except sometimes I'll get new versions of the movie from people on this day. Jenrya takes no notice of my lack of response; I'm starting to think he's losing it, too. But he's my older brother, so I let him talk. I always do, every year.

Sometimes he brings presents. Last year he brought a cake, and Takato and Ruki accompanied him. Except I was in the middle of the movie, so I quickly blew out the candles and then ignored everything else. Ruki shared looks with Takato and Jenrya tried to get me to pay attention to the cards I'd gotten. It was the look of 'what do we do?' that Ruki never has. Takato just looked heartbroken. I tried not to care. I hated seeing Ruki's horrified face and Takato's sad one, both that way because of me. Because of the effect I have on Jenrya.

"You're eleven. Remember how Mom used to light candles on your cake in that weird way?" his silver eyes sparkle with unshed tears, "She'd space out all the candles and you'd blow them out one by one. Your wish wouldn't come true if you blew out two at the same time, remember?" A tear slid down his cheek now; he grabbed my shoulders and looked into my eyes, trying to get a response. A slap, a hug, a nod, anything. "Remember the presents? More than Jaarin and Rinchei and I ever got. Remember? And Dad used to sing so badly, you'd laugh until you hiccupped? Every year, Shuichon, every year you used to throw balloons out the window and race to the roof, like you could catch them… Takato thought that was so funny. Even Ruki smiled. Remember how Ruki hates smiling?" He was getting desperate now, because he could tell by looking into my dark pink eyes that I don't remember any of that clearly. "Please, Suzie, remember. Please…"

I try. I really do. For the first time in three and a half years, I try as hard as I can to bring my mind into focus, to remember Ruki's smile and Takato's laugh and racing up the stairs, knowing I wasn't going to make it. I recall the run, because it was like running into the Digital Field the day I met Lopmon. Reckless. But the rest isn't even there in concept. It's gone, gone gone gone, gone forever maybe. I focus harder, eyes cleared of their fog. I know that these things must have happened if my brother said so. I think back… but Lopmon isn't there.

With a soft exhale, I give up. Lopmon was not with me then. I did not have a friend. I was not Shuichon. I was Suzie, ditzy clutzy and crazy. I was not really alive back then, not like I was when I was with Lopmon. I will never be alive again. I will never be with Lopmon again. So I don't think about now, about what just happened. I forget it all.

It's not worth remembering.


End file.
